


Here There Be Monsters

by miera



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Childhood, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where, really, did Malcolm's aquaphobia start? (03/05/2003)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here There Be Monsters

Malcolm Reed couldn't sleep.

He fidgeted in his bed, trying to get comfortable, but it was useless. He was too excited. He looked at the clock. 2:20 am. Another half an hour and he would be able to get up. Father said he wanted to leave before 3:30.

The truth was Malcolm hadn't been able to sleep much since his birthday, two weeks ago. He'd been living in a perpetual state of awe, ever since Father's sudden announcement that at seven years old, Malcolm was ready to learn to fish. They were going out on the boat, just the two of them. "No womenfolk around," Father had said jokingly at the table.

Malcolm still couldn't believe it. Father almost never took Malcolm or Madeline anywhere alone. There was the occasional Sunday when Mum wasn't feeling well enough and the three of them would go to church together. But generally, Father was only with them when Mum was around. Now it would be him and Father alone on the boat for almost an entire day.

Malcolm had been going through massive shifts between excitement and terror that he would do something to make Father angry. To protect himself against that, the very day after his birthday he'd gone straight to the school library and politely asked for help learning about deep sea fishing. The librarian smiled when Malcolm explained, "My Father is taking me." Since then he'd driven Mum and Maddy nearly crazy with information he'd gotten out of the books. He was sure he knew enough to make his Father proud of him.

2:45. He couldn't stand it any more. Malcolm got out of bed and rearranged the sheets neatly. Then he took off his blue pajamas and folded them on the foot of the bed, before climbing into the clothes Mum had laid out the night before. He checked his backpack and made sure that the Swiss Army knife his uncle had sent when he started Eagle Scouts was securely in his pocket.

He heard a noise. Someone was downstairs, in the kitchen. Malcolm picked up his things and went downstairs quietly, where light could be seen coming from the small room off the dining area.

Father was in the kitchen, scrambling eggs. The sight surprised Malcolm for a moment. He'd never thought to wonder how Father had fed himself before he got married. He didn't recall ever seeing Father cook anything, nor had he talked about cooking. Now here was Father, making eggs!

Father looked over at him and nodded his approval that Malcolm was up and dressed without having to be called. "Sit down. Breakfast will be ready in a minute."

Malcolm sat obediently at the table. The strong smell of coffee pervaded the small kitchen. With the lone light overhead, darkness outside the windows, he felt quite happy, despite the early hour.

They ate eggs and toast quickly, Father polishing off a second and then third cup of coffee. Malcolm drank his milk without complaint, although he had never liked the taste much. When he was done he brought the dishes over to the counter and then went to brush his teeth. Father stacked all the dishes in the sink and left them for Mum to do when she got up.

When Malcolm came down from the bathroom, Father was looking through the bag that Mum had packed for them the night before. He rooted around the sandwiches and tissues and pulled out a tube of sunscreen. He was about to toss it aside, then, looking at Malcolm's pale white skin, changed his mind and put it back.

"Ready?"

"Yes, sir."

And they were off.

*~*~*~*~*

The whole world was asleep. At least that was how it seemed to Malcolm. As they drove to the marina, all the houses were dark. They passed one truck and the light and noise had made him jump slightly. Fortunately Father hadn't noticed.

Everything seemed larger, somehow, too, at this late hour. Trees, buildings, even their car felt bigger. Or maybe he felt smaller. He looked over. Father was intent on the road in front of him, trying to keep his eyes open until the coffee kicked in. Malcolm felt better.

They got out of the car. Malcolm hefted his own backpack on his shoulders. "Do you need me to carry anything, Father?"

Father actually chuckled and handed Malcolm the tackle box. It was a bit heavy for him but he didn't let on.

They started to walk towards the docks, in and out of the pools of light from the parking lamps. Here they were not alone. An elderly man was crossing the lot ahead of them. A light shone from inside the marina's office, and in front of it, figures could be seen moving about.

The slap of Malcolm's sneakers on the pavement changed as they hit the old wooden dockwork. The beams squeaked slightly under his father's bulk as they walked towards their boat. Father finally stopped at their berth and Malcolm sighed as he put the tackle box down finally.

He looked up and froze.

Most of his life had been spent near water. Malcolm associated the color blue with the water of the seas. He'd absorbed a thousand stories from his grandfather about the bonnie blue ocean before he was five.

But this wasn't his ocean. The water was black as night and looked...scary. Unfriendly. A horrible shudder ran through his body at the thought of what could be hiding in the dark depths. Sea monsters from old mariners tales came unbidden to his imagination.

"Malcolm?" Father called, somewhat sharply. He was already on the boat, waiting impatiently.

For a horrible moment, Malcolm didn't think he could move. He forced his eyes to the boat, the tiny light coming from the cabin. Thankfully he did remember to pick up the tackle box before he walked down the gangplank, resolutely not looking down at the black water under him.

*~*~*~*~*

Father had piloted the boat out so far that there was no land anywhere in sight. Malcolm tried with all his might to concentrate on the piloting controls and not on the huge vastness that surrounded their tiny boat. He felt horribly small, even when Father allowed him to steer for a little while.

Finally they stopped and things got a little better. The task of setting up the poles and lines gave him something to think about. Also Father was lecturing on what bait to use for what fish. Malcolm listened and answered back all the questions put to him correctly, mostly because he was so intent on not looking down at the dark water underneath them. Father seemed quite pleased.

Once the lines were all set, they sat down to wait. Now there was nothing to keep Malcolm's mind occupied and he felt the fear beginning to rise again. He amused himself for a while looking through the tackle box. Father watched him, and every so often when Malcolm showed particular interest in a lure, he would explain what it was for. But soon the tackle box had been exhausted.

It was still too dark to read, even with the little lights hanging from the boat's cabin. Malcolm wanted very much to go inside where the light was much stronger, and more importantly where he couldn't see the water, but he knew Father would ask him why and he was too embarrassed to admit that he was afraid. There was nothing to be scared of. Father was here, he wouldn't let anything happen to them. Malcolm knew this, but still his heart was racing and he kept expecting ...something...to appear out of the darkness.

One of the lines twitched. Both of them sat up and Malcolm was forced to look at the thin strand disappearing into the grim depths underneath the boat. The whiteness of the line vanished just below the water's surface, swallowed up by the black. The enormity of the space they were floating above hit Malcolm like a blow. As frightening as the openness of the surface was, what was below it seemed ten times worse for being unseen. The undersea world here had no relation to the aquarium his school had visited, where bright green forests of seaweed provided a playground for pretty yellow and blue fish to swim around. But this place? The old sailors would write on maps of open waters like this, "Here there be monsters."

The line twitched again. What if what was tugging on their fishing line wasn't a normal fish but some grotesque beast? Something that would lure them to look over the side and then snatch them into the water? Dragging them down into all that darkness?

What if it took Father and left him here alone on the boat?

Total panic engulfed Malcolm. Father was watching the fishing line intently, waiting to see if the prey was going to bite. Malcolm was shaking and sweating, struck mute. In his terror, he looked frantically around for something, anything, to look at other than the water or the fishing lines he was sure now were going to lead to their grisly deaths. His eyes turned upwards.

For the first time, Malcolm realized there was no moon. A bright, white ribbon of light seemed to arch directly over his head. The entire dome of the sky was suffused by the pale light of the Milky Way, or so it seemed to him. Millions, maybe billions, of tiny lights twinkled and sparkled at him in a friendly fashion, reassuring him with their brightness and the illusion of nearness in the clear sky before dawn.

He breathed in and out, his heart rate slowing. The lights on their tiny boat seemed to be part of the twinkling stars overhead. So much light, watching over him, keeping him safe from the darkness.

Malcolm watched carefully as the stars faded into dawn, and gloried in the rising of the sun, bringing immense light and warmth to the world again. Father finally called it quits mid-morning. They had caught nothing, but that didn't seem to bother him. "Better luck next time, eh?" was all he said as he resignedly packed the fishing gear away. Malcolm only nodded.

The boat made its way home. Malcolm looked down at the water, which was the old familiar blue under the ship's keel. But it no longer felt comforting. Malcolm knew now what the true color of the sea was, and he didn't think he liked it very much anymore.


End file.
